If Leo is his steadiest rock and Charles is his diamond mind, Bellavie must be his heart. She has his naked soul - the grit of it, the youth of it, the tender wisps of all his hungriest dreams, collected like morning dew on the strong palm of her hands. He can hardly remember a time where he did not stand in the morning of her grace, a boy raised on her kindness, the gorgeous affair of her laughter. He looks upon her now, pallid and so enduring soft where moonlight pools in the hollow of her cheeks, and the question trickles down the course of his body like a tremulous ache: What am to do without you? How should I go on without the very essence of who I am, of which you have sheltered so lovingly on the shelves of your heart for so long?
Her hand is extended towards him, frozen in place as she regards him, and Declan does not hesitate to move forward and take it with both of his own. He gently brings it to his chest and for a sad, silent moment, can only hold it there. He will not look her in the eye, choosing instead to study their intertwined hands, gaze fluttering at the hardness of her knuckles where his are soft, unscarred - he fears he may break. Bellavie compels him to take off his armor like few others can, but this is a time of war.
āBelly, Iām,ā he attempts, and finds he cannot raise it above a whisper, lest it shakes. A small, incessant quaking - his own fear disgusts him. āIām going to ask them to fight for me. Iām going to - fuck. There are first-years in there, and Iām going to go in and ask for volunteersĀ to - like some kind of muggle war draft - ā
He finally brings his eyes up, red-rimmed and wrecked, and the sadness that embeds his gaze is quieter than death.
āYouāre my best girl,ā he says brokenly. It is all he can manage.
Come. Donāt come. Fight for our dream. Go back to sleep.
His hands wrap soft around hers, a fierce shield against the evening cool. It is just, she thinks, that his hands should hold the heat of him, the fire and sunlight of his soul too strong to be contained by mere flesh. He is a boy again, in that moment, lost and frantic in the face of a task that should never have been his. Why had this task ( this need )Ā been thrust upon his already burdened shoulders instead of taken up by the Professors? Surely this was their purview, and while she didnāt begrudge them the assistance of the students in it, they should have taken responsibility for it and lead it themselves. Itās a distancing, a removal of responsibility, and it bothers her.
She lifts her free hand; lays it gently against his cheek and traces his cheekbone with her thumb. He is known to her, familiar, the secrets and fears he keeps locked inside traced glowing silver on his skin for her alone to see; the grazed knees of boyhood and the cuts of the soldier. He has always had those sides to him, her Declan; the gap between the child he should be and the mantle of adulthood he had taken up too early. There would come a time, she had known, where the two could not co-exist easily -- yet she had never thought that she might have to stand here and watch as one side devoured the other, as the youth burned to ash behind his eyes.
Tears prick her eyes; she steels herself against them, tightens her grip on his hand and trails the other from his cheek up through his hair, moving strands back into place with consummate care. It was an absurd thought for the moment, itās normality almost confusing in the moment, but she cannot help but wonder when he had gotten so tall, had gained those final inches that meant she had to reach after him.
āI know,ā she breaks the silence after a long minute, and her voice aches with grief for him, for this night and its terrors. For the burden that should never have been his but that he must bear because itās rightful carriers had cast it aside.Ā āAnd I know you too, Declan Fionn Prewett, I know you.Ā Youāll only take whatās freely offered, and youāll fight forĀ us and with us.ā Her hand withdraws from his hair, shifts to splay against his chest, across his heart.Ā āThis is a rescue mission. You built us for these, trained us for this. Now let us do it, Dear Heart. Let us help.ā
Help those who had spent years tormenting her, who despised her for existing. She canāt help but think, briefly, that it might not be tooĀ tragic if the squid happened to get Electra before they arrived - but no, she will not wish it. The girl is not much older than her, and she is still human enough that she must be scared. She may not be able to raise concern but pity takes it place. And besides. with the ghost of Druellaās kiss still on her cheek and the other girlās bright, naive well-wishes following her, she cannot consider that they should do otherwise than everything at their disposal.
She glances back up at Declan, trying for a smile and though itās somewhat wan and wavery it is present as she points out the flaw in his declaration.Ā āAnd Iām your only girl, Dec.ā Itās weak, she will admit, and it shakes a little, but itās normal,Ā and itāsĀ themĀ and itās theirs, and that matters more right now. If she can give him some piece of normality to hold onto, to know that itās there to come back to after this, that nowĀ is horrible but life will return tomorrow...Ā
